Elli

The painting is finished. The trimwork is all stripped and sanded. Last night I got all trimwork except the one high window put pre-conditioner and one coat of stain. I really like the color of paint I chose, it was uncharacteristically brave of me. I eshewed the safe “realtor beige” for a toffee color that I pulled from the material for the curtains. And the hideous mural is gone! BUT. (There is always a but.) I am very disappointed in the way the trim turned out. After I stripped it, I was surprised by how bad a shape it was in, but I thought the stain would cover more than it did. The nail holes I filled with stainable filler and the gouges that were too deep to sand out stick out like a five dollar hooker on Rodeo Drive. The Hunk took a look at it and says it Adds Character. I say it Looks Dumb. But I’ll lightly sand with steel wool and put on the second coat of stain and re-evaluate. If I still hate it, I’ll paint it the color of the cream in the material in the curtains. But that means a few more hours my house is a mess and my husband is surly. And I still have a lot on my To Do List that is very pressing, such as updating my website. I sent out three resumes yesterday so potential employers could be checking it out soon. My Me page still says that I work at A and none of my real world work is on my portfolio page. Yikes! My house is a mess too. *sigh*

That pic of Elli was taken right after she sat in the paint pan! I gave her a bath and it came out pretty easy.

Rip it roll it and punch it, dude.

Make with the kinky linky love:

I’m blogging this from my phone bcus my computer is partly in the living room and partly in my bedroom. Why? This weekend I got a bug up my butt and started cleaning the Bottomless Pit That Is My Office. I was wiping down the baseboards and some gouges in the wood told me that there were three coats of paint and/or varnish adorning them. And that Elvis is alive in Uganda. Anyway. So then I get to thinking. See that ugly mural? When I moved in almost four years ago, I said “That has got to go. STAT.” So apparently Stat means in almost four years. I decided to paint. And strip and stain the trimwork. AND make curtains. I went to walfart and walked out $150 lighter, but with drop cloths, stripper, stain, wood filler, pans, rollers, paint (toffee), curtain material (cream, plum, and deep olive – wow, are you hungry too?), and painter’s tape. And yesterday I picked up a wood scraper, which surprisingly, works much better than a putty knife or an ice scraper. Huh. The window trim is entirely stripped, three of the four wall trim, and now one baseboard and two doorways to go. And my husband is not thrilled so much as supremely annoyed. Oops. Oh, and did I mention we’re leaving for MI Friday night or Saturday morning?. Yeah. I’m a dumbass. So we are taking the boys to MI so they can visit The Seester for a week, and I’m going to spend the boy-less week staining and painting and making curtains instead of holding Sexfest 2007. Maybe THAT’S why The Hunk is so decidedly not-so-enamored of my little project. Huh. AND Elli says “Hi.” Or maybe it was “Mommy is insane.” It loses a little in the translation.

Make with the kinky linky love:

That damned river otter came out of the, well… river… this morning. With the angry haze of rabid rage still clouding his vision, he narrowed his beady little eyes at me, tipped his (MY!) safari hat at me and then flipped… me… OFF. Elli was watching and she popped up and flung her football tee at him, knocking the safari hat off. She ran as fast as only that little white tornado can, grabbed my hat, and punched him in the stomach. HAH. The only thing that has me worried is the thought that only time will tell how fast a rabid river otter retaliates and to what degree his wrath shall be stirred. I’m keeping my safari hat under lock and key and my trusty little white tornado at my side for at least 17 days.

Make with the kinky linky love:

*unpacking boxes**flops down on a stack of bedding**pops open a cold one*It’s Miller Time.

So I’ve moved over here from LiveJournal. I’ll check back in over there periodically, but I live here now, at 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.

I think the change of scenery will do me well. I’m going to find a lighter voice here. I had quite the teen-angst scene going on over there at LJ, all pseudo-deep and whatnot, and it got to the point where I could barely stand myself. Sorry ’bout that. Gonna try to ease on up on that crap.

For those of you just tuning in, I’m Dory, as dubbed by my hunka-husband when we went to see Finding Nemo in the theater. Dory, the little blue tang fish, came on the screen and The Hunk started laughing… nay, giggling, and said, “It’s you, honey, it’s you! You’re up there on the screen!” And Dory stuck. Within a week, my friends were calling me Dory. Ah, the joys of ADD. You probably couldn’t even begin to believe what The Hunk puts up with, God love him. ADD with a Generous Dollop o’ Crazy, every… single… day.

In other news… I’m fired. I was actually fired not last Friday, but the Friday before. The Boss says that he has never felt so bad about having to let someone go, (of course at the time, my brain was screaming “THEN DON’T, YOU EVIL GARDEN GNOME!”) and that he wanted to give me up to four weeks to find another job AND my parting gift was… a letter of recommendation! Thanks for playing our game! *audience OOOs* So… consequently I feel like Dead Woman Walking. I don’t think any of my co-workers knows, but you know how Rumors and Office politics get along. Like a teeny-bopper and her shiny sequined, hot pink fruffy frou frou trimmed, lime green purse. Except in this case, Rumors and Office Politics are headed off to the 2 day sale at Younkers, MasterCard firmly in hand, their need-to-be-punched pointy little noses high in the air and their beady little eyes darting around trying to figure out how to look down at me whilst aforementioned noses are so high in the air, they are in danger of bleeding. Rumors and Office Politics are absolutely ecstatic that their nefarious plan to remove me from their presence was successful. They’re already deciding who gets custody of the stapler and the pencil sharpener (Rumors gets the stapler and Office Politics gets the pencil sharpener, except Wednesdays and every other weekend, and holidays; in which case they switch). I never blogged about work before because I heard a bunch of horror stories about getting fired because of your blog. Now I’m blogging about getting fired. Huh. Imagine that. Tonight I’ve been actively avoiding working on my resume. Let’s check in and see how I’ve done.

Things I’ve Done Instead Of Working On My Resume:

Erased all the old text messages off my phone

Checked email

Watched people coming and going on my IM list

Looked up the correct spelling for “wallaby”

Watched a couple episodes of Sex in the City

Read each and all the blogs I follow

Started a new blog while watching Finding Nemo for inspiration (bonus points for multi-tasking!)

Tried to figure out if there was a way to rob the Aquarium Screensaver from the Finding Nemo DVD

After much diligent research and some cussing, decided there wasn’t – Yet

Made tacos for dinner

Talked to The Elli Dog regarding my displeasure with her violating the cat (more about the little white tornado that is my undying pride and joy later. And on a side note, damn, I hope she comes out of heat soon.)

Reminisced on the final I took today and again tried to remember more signs that are made with the B handshape (he asked for 7; for the life of me I could only think of 5, and that was reaching. On my tippy-toes with my hamstrings screaming for mercy.)

Overseen the Leaf Cleanup Detail in the backyard (the boys apparently can’t get a job done without me standing on the deck micro-managing.)

Smoking while overseeing the Leaf Cleanup Detail in the backyard (Yes, now I’m reaching to make my list longer.)

Stuff Dory already forgot

Stuff Dory already forgot

CateDories

CateDories

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Dory loves her some comments

Comments=Love.
And I needs the love. Oh, how I craves the looove. And I'm not shy; it's a spectacularly dysfunctional, codependent, "but I looooooove him, he din't mean to crack mah jaw! Noooo, don't take him awaaaaay!" type of love.
Enable me, won't you?
But. (There is always a but, and sometimes a butt.)
BUT.
If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Don’t be a jackass, please.
Don’t be that guy.
Nobody likes that guy.

Dory Can’t Remember Diddly!

All my social media links can be found at jenness asby dot comSo now you should "Follow" me or "Friend" me or "Like" me or just bite the head off my chicken and wear it as a hat or whatever you kids do to *pathetically whines* beee myyy frieeeend.•:• •:• •:•

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